It’s difficult to know where to begin even describing the Magic Numbers’ debut
album. Okay, perhaps it’s not so difficult. Just look at them, fer
crissakes. They’re hairy, well fed, not terribly attractive, and about as
unfashionable as they come. Dear God, how did they get past security?

Don’t know, but thank heavens someone let them through the front door. At the
risk of pigeonholing them as a ‘60s throwback band that worships the letter ‘B’
(Buffalo Springfield, Byrds, Beach Boys), the eponymous debut of the Magic
Numbers, two pairs of brother/sister siblings, is the kind of album that the
Thrills would sell their souls to make, but even with the devil’s help, they’d
come well short of this. The very fact that this album is itself less than
perfect tells you everything you need to know about the Thrills.

It begins with the galloping “Mornings Eleven,” a jolly, harmony drenched, banjo
driven ditty that shifts gears at the 90-second mark (!) into a doo wop ballad,
only to take off again and then shift into a bridge with an altogether different
tempo, ultimately leading back to the doo wop part for the finale. This song
along is a good example of the things to come. They’re not in any kind of hurry
– only two songs are less than four minutes – but there’s a plan and structure
to what they do. It will likely appeal to fans of Phish and the Dead, but not
exclusively to them, since the Numbers (thankfully) don’t noodle the way those
bands did.

Lead singer Romeo Stodart is not the most dynamic lead singer in the world; he
has a technically proficient tenor but it falls on the nasal side. Likewise, the
female harmonies of Angela Gannon and sister Michele Stodart aren’t exactly the
Supremes, but they work surprisingly well together. If anything, Romeo is a more
interesting guitarist than a singer, which he shows on “Long Legs,” an Allman
Brothers-style jam with the kind of guitar picking that would make both Duane
Allman and Jerry Garcia proud. “I See You, You See Me” is a heartbreaking ballad
with back-and-forth vocals between Romeo and one of the girls (we’ll assume it’s
not his sister). The lyrics may be simple (“I often thought that you’d be
better off left alone / Why throw a circle around a man with broken bones / But
darling, when I see you, you see me”), but they’re powerful. Ditto “Love’s a
Game,” a song that sounds like a Jayhawks outtake circa Tomorrow the Green
Grass.

Sometimes, however, one wishes that the band would get a swift kick in the
keister and pick up the pace a little. Love songs are great and all, but they
seem to lose sight of the fact that they’re a rock band, not the Carpenters.
Lose “Wheels on Fire” (you knew there’d be at least one Dylan reference), forget
“This Love.” Albums are about checks and balances. When the soft introspection
takes over, inertia sets in.

The Magic Numbers is not one of those albums that kicks your ass and
takes your name while playing it, but there’s an undeniable charm to it. It’s
far from perfect, but doing this album and a collaboration with the
Chemical Brothers in the same year suggests that they have grander plans
than the album alone would indicate.